


Overboard

by Neyasochi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Captain Erwin, Eruri Secret Santa 2015, M/M, pirate levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5476157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyasochi/pseuds/Neyasochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi hadn’t realized that Kenny had steered them quite so far from familiar territory, out into the sort of deep waters that bred tales of ungodly sea monsters and haunted ships. Out where the <i>HMS Maria</i> patrolled, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overboard

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [faustiians](http://faustiians.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for Eruri Secret Santa 2015! I hope you like it!  
> Called Overboard, as suggested by my roommate, because that's what I went with this prompt.

_844_

The _HMS Maria_ had put up more of a fight than Levi had expected from a ship of its class-- a sixth-rate frigate, the smallest of the Crown’s three flagships and certainly the farthest flung from its homeland. Its meager eight-and-twenty guns had been deftly put to use, blasting the _Ripper_ ’s rudder into splinters and demolishing half of the captain’s cabin in the process. What little combat Levi had glimpsed before hurrying to the lower decks to search for Isabel and Farlan showed that the royal sailors of the _Maria_ were not hesitant to board, either, their many grappling hooks whipping through the salt-air and catching along mast and rail with wooden thuds and the hiss of ripping sails.

The nights of late had been clouded and fog-heavy, starless, and Levi hadn’t realized that Kenny had steered them quite so far from familiar territory, out into the sort of deep waters that bred tales of ungodly sea monsters and haunted ships. Out where the _Maria_ patrolled, apparently. Out beyond proper trade routes, where the fat merchants’ brigs and sloops sailed, laden with coin and all the spoils of profitable trade. They were also well beyond the first- and second-rate warships that protected the interests of the merchant marine-- the _Sina_ , the _Rose_ , and the myriad smaller vessels that aided them, marked by the unicorns or roses born on their flags and carven on their bows.

Skirting around something like the _Sina_ was one thing; that heavy man-of-war was all power and little speed, an intimidating, lumbering vessel that should have been kept in port to impress visiting diplomats, unless brought out for a true war engagement to serve as a ship-of-the-line. But the _Maria_ was smaller, faster, and whoever now captained it had the seamanship to bring even the _Ripper_ to its knees.

The roar upon the weather deck was muted by the floorboards above his head, though not by much. Cannons were still firing sporadically, the gun crews likely in shambles from the lightning-quick battery or absorbed in hand-to-hand combat after the boarding. And at this range-- with the broadsides of the two ships parallel, the rudder blown out, and Kenny spilling out into a widening pool of blood-- each shot into the hull could damn near rip the _Ripper_ a new one.  
  
Levi heard a guttural shriek from the companionway, then the heavy, erratic thumping of a body tumbling backward down the steps. Shouts and calls followed, amid the peppering pops of handgun fire, and the tromping of half a dozen pairs of boots coming down the stairs.  
  
The lithe little pirate slipped backward into the wrecked cabin and hid behind a half-fallen drape, one of his daggers tight in his fist as he waited on the approach of the royal sailors. The coming footsteps were weighty and cautious, pausing on occasion to toe aside the silver and candelabras scattered across the floor, crisp when treading upon the windswept papers now spilled across the floor and out into the sea. Only one pair of steps, only one man.

Levi held his breath fast and listened as the footfalls approached Kenny’s body, already gone pale and grey with lack of blood. A good quarter of his flesh and bone had been carried away by the momentum of the cannonball and the wooden shrapnel it had brought with it. The sea breeze from the gaping hole at the _Ripper_ ’s stern rustled at the heavy drapery, threatening to drag the hem up over the toes of his boots and expose him. It teased at the crown of Levi’s hair, tickled at the blood drying on his scalp and under his nose.

He heard the soft scratching of the royal soldier’s uniform, too, either from movement or the same touch of wind Levi felt. Other than that, the man was silent and still.  
  
Levi’s eyes found a silver platter that had been flung across the room during the cannon battery; it now rested in the corner, propped up haphazardly by the wreckage of splintered oak and pine. The platter shone like a mirror, thanks to Levi’s insistence on cleanliness and good order, and in its polished surface Levi was able to see the reflection of the soldier currently examining Kenny’s remains.  
  
He was tall and hulking, but his silhouette stood strangely uneven, and decked in khaki and white under an overcoat of deep forest green and tall, chestnut boots. He stared down at the floor, the blade of his cutlass hovering just above the form of the deceased pirate captain, his blond head cocked with an apprehensive sort of curiosity. Unreadable elsewise.  
  
Silent as fog over glass-still water, Levi began to ease himself out from behind the curtain. He flexed his fingers around the leather-wrapped hilt of the dagger and braced the heel of his other hand against the pommel.

The blond was a big man, and an officer of some kind. Levi had never much cared for the intricacies of uniform that the royal bastards used to claim their rank, and it all looked about the same to him, in truth. Still, he knew the brocade on the man’s coat was more elaborate than most. Perhaps an overeager lieutenant hoping to impress, to leap ahead of his fellows and get his own commission. Levi decided that was the likeliest answer as he continued to creep out from under the cover of the drape, clinging to shadow and counting on the din above them to cover any noise he might make.  
  
The royal sailor lifted his head, and Levi froze as still as a sail in the doldrums. The close-cropped hair on the other man’s nape mimicked the same fashion Levi wore, and the pirate could smell the greasy, heady perfume of pomade even from here. He was broad-backed, easily twice Levi’s weight, and strong, no doubt. He had every marker of some officer gentleman raised on good meat and fresh water, on bread that wasn’t half sawdust. Some people were just born luckier.  
  
The blond’s sword arm was lowered, his stare fixed on the blown out hole at the ship’s stern, on the open sea and the bobbing refuse that now littered it.  
  
Levi edged another step forward, watching the reflection in the silver platter for any sign of the officer’s noticing him. With luck, the man might be hard of hearing, deafened by the thunder of the rifle fire and cannon blasts. Or simply an idiot.  
  
Another step, and Levi felt the warped wooden board beneath his foot give out a light groan.  
  
In a single breath, iced blue eyes found Levi’s, their reflected stares meeting in the silver surface of the platter.  
  
Levi lunged forward at the same time that the big blond spun on his heel, coming round just in time to parry Levi’s slash. His dagger slid against the cutting edge of the officer’s sword-- long for a cutlass, and a hair too long for tight, cramped quarters like these.

The power that the man was able to put behind it, though…

Levi kept light on his feet, falling back a few steps when the sheer weight of the sword bearing down on his dagger was too much to risk. He was grateful, if a bit perplexed, that the blond carried no handgun or dagger in his right hand. The forceful sword work was unlike the usual manner employed by royal dogs-- he was all purpose and no pomp, no waste, no indecision. Were the blond’s sword skills coupled with another weapon, Levi was peeved to realize he might actually be outdone.

Then he noticed the looseness of the officer’s right sleeve, the pinning of the stiff fabric that kept it from flapping about in the breeze like the Crown’s colors.

“Not even a hook? Really?” He ducked low under a wide sweep of the cutlass, the blade of his dagger flashing as he turned it for a better grip. He was practically eye-level with the royal officer’s hips, with a mind to lodge the whole of his blade into the blond’s thigh, close to the groin. A severed artery there was as sure a death as any else, and far less fuss to inflict than trying to hack someone up with a sword.

“Who’s to say I don’t have something else up my sleeve?” the man replied. He thrust his cutlass down before him to protect against the viper-like strike of the pirate’s dagger. “Your captain?” he asked, gesturing to Kenny’s corpse with a nod.

“My captain,” Levi acknowledged once he’d gotten well enough away from the _Maria_ ’s officer. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of the blond bastard, and it wasn’t as though sentimentality was something Kenny had cultivated in him. And he was dead now anyway, gone, destined for a sea-burial of the simplest order.

“Then your ship is lost. You’ve no more obligation to fight. I advise you to surrender peacefully.”

“Surrender and be executed?” Levi scoffed. “Like hell I will.”

“Surrender and stand trial.”

“And _then_ be executed,” Levi amended for the other man. He snorted and tightened each of his fingers around the grip of his dagger in turn. “I’m not interested.”

“Captain Smith,” a voice interrupted from behind them, in the ruins of the gun-deck. Its owner appeared at the doorway to Kenny’s cabin, his cutlass and pistol in hand, framed on either side by shattered timbers.

Levi blinked once, twice, startled gaze drifting back to the blond’s gold-tasseled epaulets. A captain? The captain?

Said captain kept his blue-eyed stare level on Levi, even when addressing the officer behind him. “Is the ship secure, Lieutenant Zacharius?”

“All except for this one, Captain,” the lieutenant replied, nodding his head in Levi’s direction. His expression was dour, and he watched the pirate with the stern attentiveness of a well-trained guard dog.

“Stand down,” the blond— Captain Smith— said to Levi.

He considered that. Doing so, though it chafed his pride something terrible. He didn’t know whether Isabel and Farlan had been killed or captured, but if they were still alive, he needed to be there for them, _with_ _them_. And even if a trial meant sure death, there was always the possibility of escaping before meeting the noose…

Levi straightened up and raised his hands, slowly, uncurling his fingers and letting his dagger clatter to the floor in the process.

He stood stiff and still as the captain signaled for his lieutenant to approach Levi and make sure he was disarmed. But even as he was brusquely searched by the other officer, the pirate’s gaze never wavered from the one-armed blond, grey eyes as fixed as the guiding stars.

* * *

The _Maria_ was but a small frigate, and the brig was tightly packed with the _Ripper_ ’s surviving crew— the last fragments of Kenny’s legacy, his ebbing influence upon the wide, untamed seas.

The ship itself had been deemed too damaged to salvage at sea and take for a prize, and had been burned to the waterline instead. Levi had watched from the deck of the _Maria_ as dark, oakum-scented smoke billowed up and fanned across the sky. A pastor had recited verses about the goddesses for the dead, and then the royal seamen that had been stitched into their weighted hammocks tipped overboard one-by-one.

Their dead now mingled beneath the waves— royal marines, able seamen, and pirate alike, all left to navigate the sinking, lightless unknown together. Levi and the rest of the still-living crew now sat in the hot, close confines of the steely-barred brig. There were no windows nor sunlight by which to mark the passage of time down here; only the eventual change in shift of the guard and the regular, if thin and disgusting, meals.

“So, obviously we’ll be making a break for it,” Farlan whispered at one point, when it felt like night. Their fellow prisoners seemed to slumber, or something like it. True sleep was a fanciful wish when packed like jarred sardines. “The question is when?” he asked, glancing over at Levi for a decision.

Isabel paused in gnawing her dirty thumbnail to offer her own thoughts. “It’s always easier to get away in the confusion at port. And they’ll have to stop to refit and restock this thing soon, right, big bro?”

“But the guard will be heavier while landed. Safer to steal a cutter and sail for shore,” Farlan suggested, his narrow shoulders lifting in a little shrug. “But risky if we don’t have eyes to see where the hell we even are. Who knows what route this piece of shit is charting.”

“We’ll wait through their first landing at port,” Levi muttered, low enough that only the two of them might hear. With neither ship nor captain, the _Ripper_ ’s old crew was little more than a ragged group of cutthroats and exiles that Levi was quite comfortable cutting ties with. “And make our move on the first nightfall after they’ve set sail. We’ll only be a day from shore, then.”

Isabel nodded, her tufted pigtails bobbing lightly. “Whatever you say, bro.”

Farlan merely looked thoughtful. “Sorry about Kenny,” he told Levi in a whisper, without looking at the other man.

Levi shrugged and slipped his arms through the wooden slats of their jail, letting his hands dangle in the freer air just outside the brig. “Yeah, well. It isn’t like I’m going to weep over him,” he said with a half-hearted shrug.

“We know,” Isabel said gently, her elbow finding its way into a sore spot along his ribs, probably acquired during the none-too-gentle transfer from the _Ripper_ over to the _Maria_. “I’ve never seen you shed a tear _once_. You didn’t even cry that time someone dropped anchor on your foot.”

Farlan bristled immediately, his glare fixing on Isabel and her impish smile. “At least I never hanged him.”

“It was an accident! And he slipped right out anyway!”

“Only because you do knots like you’ve got two hooks for hands,” Farlan snapped back, more teasing than vindictive. His grin widened and softened as the girl kept her tongue, apparently without a retort. “How does someone even mess up the rigging that bad?”

“You’ve got me there,” she said at last, grudgingly giving up the words through a tight-lipped pout.

“And you’ve both got me reconsidering the company I keep,” Levi grumbled. He rubbed an eye with the heel of his palm and groaned as Isabel and Farlan nudged closer, the both of them crowding him against the bars. He snorted at the gesture, as affectionate as it was uncomfortable, and let them smother him a little longer before bidding them to try and sleep.

Days passed without change, other than a steadily increasing stench within the brig. The heat of so many unwashed bodies so close was enough to make Levi choke, the unclean air tight in his lungs. It only exacerbated the misery of everything else-- the maddening sway of the ship, the utter boredom, the poor excuse for food, the frustrated ache for violence that was simmering just beneath the surface within the packed wooden cells. It was nearly enough to tempt Levi into pissing off the guard in the hopes of being taken above deck for a lashing. Fresh air would probably be worth the strokes… but the ensuing danger of infection certainly was not.

A shift in the rock of the ship was the first sign to the prisoners within the bowels of the vessel that something was amiss. That, and the order that was echoed from the weather deck down into the hold, and everywhere in between-— a beat to quarters, with the brittle rattle of a snare drum faint under the cacophony of marines and sailors alike rushing to their stations, preparing both cannon and rifle.

A murmur of unease coursed through the imprisoned pirates, a rising swell of concern and cursing and prayer, and all manner of superstition. Worn-smooth talismans were thumbed anxiously, little rituals carried out to sway luck in their favor. Their fate now rested in the well-being of their enemy’s vessel, as a sunken ship was likely their death sentence as well.

“In a storm, too,” Farlan commented, glancing down at the floorboards as if he could see through the wood and into the churning sea that cradled them. “That’s poor luck.”

“Could be good luck,” Isabel was quick to argue, “if it isn’t any kinder to the other ship.”

“It’ll probably be real shitty all around,” Levi sighed. He considered the ever-worsening sway of the _Maria_ , the louder slap of wave against hull, the frantic calls of the crew as they made ready for both storm and engagement. Escape in a small boat was a madman’s venture in conditions like these, and he ruled it out entirely; still, being confined within the brig during such uncertain circumstances was hardly any better.

“It feels rough out there,” Farlan commented when the back and forth pitching of the ship had them pressed flush against the wet, grimy bars of their prison, or against each other, depending on the roll of the sea beneath them.

“I’d feel a hell of a lot better if we weren’t trapped in here,” Levi agreed, his hands braced against the bars as another wave sent the ship careening on its side.

“Even rats are given a chance to swim for their lives,” Isabel muttered, all frustration and clenched teeth.

Levi glanced toward the guard— a gangly thing, a new hand, judging by how green he was, and clearly as worried about the storm as the pirates he guarded.

“Squeeze your way to the corner over there,” he whispered after a moment. “Give me a pick first,” he added to Isabel, knowing how many she kept hidden in the lining of her vest— which was one of his old ones, actually. Probably pilfered from his trunk. “Once you’re there, get the guard over by you. Keep him distracted while I work on the lock.”

The two gave him little nods, determination— and in Isabel’s case, excitement— flickering across their faces. They left, edging through the rest of the brig’s prisoners to the opposite corner.

Levi heard Isabel’s voice indistinctly, followed by Farlan’s, as they played out some argument to lure the youthful guard closer. It worked. The greenhorn stiffened at whatever they were saying, then mustered some courage and left his post and its clear vantage of the locked gate.

Levi set to work immediately, thin arms slipping through the wooden bars and finding the lock. It was a little harder to do blindly, and on a heaving ship, but the noise of the storm and the call to arms at least offered some distraction. The wail of sea and storm, the roar of cannons rolling across the gun deck, straining against their chains, the aching groans of the wooden walls that sheltered them— it was a potent combination, pulling on the threads of old fear sewn into the hearts of every sailor worth their salt.

He very nearly had the lock. The tumblers were clicking into place, and as he worked the last one, he heard something familiar through the sounds of sea and storm— a deep rumble, then a terrible howling, tearing scream--

A sharp and ungodly boom was all he was conscious of, for a moment. The impact had sounded of lightning and splitting ice, a crackling explosion worse than standing on the gun-deck during a full broadside battery.

Levi’s ears rang like a singing bell, a high, clear note drowning out every noise from without and every thought from within. He found himself strewn upon the floor in a heap, in a jumble of limbs and debris, lying atop the bars of the brig, apparently shaken from their moorings and toppled. The lantern had been knocked loose from its sconce on the wall, lost in the mess of crushed hull and flesh; seawater had spilled in somehow, warm and salted, and Levi felt it stinging even in his eyes.

Another throbbing pulse of lightning scorched the storm-wracked sky, and for an instant, Levi saw the interior of the hold lit in macabre color. Near-black that coated wall and floor alike flecked with pale, gleaming bits of bone and more. It was slicked over his hands and down his back, drenched across his front. He could smell it, taste it— blood, so much of it, and little of it his own.

He lifted himself up, shakily, and turned to find the brig was no more. The hull gaped, as if a half-dozen shots had all struck true. Wood hung in splinters, bent inward, and through the hole Levi glimpsed an aching and bruised sky-- a terrible, roiling expanse of mottled yellows and black-edged violet, smudged by fog. It crackled again with lightning, unnatural and gold.

Rain-flecked wind and the cries of a roiled and hungry sea poured in through the yawning hole. Ravenous waves threw themselves against the hull, forcing the ship into a terrible sway that sent the bodies littering the blood-slick floorboards sliding from port to starboard. The swell of the sea soon reached a terrifying crescendo, saltwater pouring into the hold as the ship breeched on its starboard side and laying claim to all within. It lapped coldly at Levi’s chin as he hung to a timber for dear life, still blindly searching for two faces amid the unrecognizable dozens now floating around him.

He clawed through the water with a free hand, grabbing at nearby bodies and then shoving them away when they weren’t Farlan or Isabel’s. The more desperate he became, the greater was the risk of losing his grip on the timber and becoming one of the poor, anchorless bastards himself. Water that tasted more of iron than salt sputtered down his throat when he called their names, his weak voice drowned out by the ominous groans of the ship.

As the _Maria_ slowly began to right herself, the blood-stained tide rushed back out, taking some two dozen souls with it. Not all were quite dead when the dark water swallowed them up— too injured, perhaps, to fight against the pull of the sea, but alive and aware as it closed around them with all the finality of a leviathan’s jaws.

Briefly, Levi thought he saw Isabel’s face slipping under the inky current, skin tinged pink with blood; he never laid eyes on Farlan at all.

Something cold slithered through his stomach, chilling his insides like a mouthful of snowmelt. It left him as the water receded, the numb fading and a knife-edged ache taking its place.

His fingers scrabbled against the floorboards until he found something solid to grip, and he pulled himself along, crawling away from the remains of the brig on hands and knees. Beside him were a handful of mangled corpses, strewn by the sheer force of the cannon shot that had ripped into the hull and then pinned by heavy beams of wood and metal.  
  
Levi staggered up the steep, heavily scuffed staircase to the gun-deck, one hand pressed to an aching wound in his arm, perhaps pierced with a splinter of wood or fragment of metal. A third of the cannons here were left unmanned, some with the bodies of their handlers littering the floor beside them, dead or wounded. The hull here, too, had been ripped asunder, and wind and water blew in with the cutting coldness of an ice sheet. Half the battle-lanterns lay smashed along the floor, leaving parts of the the gun-deck almost lightless.  
  
Through the ports and gaps in the hull, Levi saw the enemy ship turning to come broadside again, even as the _Maria_ fought the white-capped sea to merely stay upright.

The remaining gunners were focused on readying another volley, the teams working with a single-minded efficiency. They didn’t notice a lone pirate stumbling by, moving toward an unmanned cannon, or they didn’t care.

His arm burned like it had been branded as he shoved aside a blood-soaked corpse half-collapsed across the barrel. He was slower than the rest of the gunners, readying the cannon alone rather than with a proper team, and his fumbling for both powder and shot cost precious seconds. Lifting the heavy iron cannonball was enough to leave him winded and shaking, and probably whiter than a sun-bleached sail. The trickle of blood down his arm increased to a steady rivulet, and when he focused on his breathing he found he could practically feel each pulse of blood as it spilled out of him.

Levi’s thin fingers felt numb and tight around the rammer as he pushed the shot all the way into the barrel. Hands trembling, he poured powder from a horn into the priming hole, and then he set to the task of taking aim. It was back-breaking work, meant to be done by a small team working in synchronicity, not one lone and injured man.

He raised the nose of the barrel, repeatedly kneeling to better sight-check the cannon’s aim. The wind and rain made a dicey job even more difficult to gauge. The enemy ship was still turning, but only just— in moments it would again be lined up for another deadly battery, and the entire gun-deck might be nothing more than blood-coated wood and warped metal.

Levi gave the cannon one final adjustment, squinting through the blood that slowly dripped down his forehead and congealed on his lashes, and then made ready the linstock. The rope at its end was lit, and he waited an arm’s length behind the cannon for _just_ the moment that the ship would course into position.

The gunners were waiting, their teams at the ready with lit linstocks as well, hovering just above the priming holes. They were ready to fire at any moment, but held off, waiting, waiting…

The enemy ship— bearing no colors, no lanterns, no flags of any kind, only sails as dark as the stormy skies— was nearly broadside when Levi dipped the linstock and fired. The cannon threw itself backward, rattling the chains securing it as its shot whistled through hard-flung rain. The explosion sent his ears ringing again, but pirate was rewarded with the sight of the phantom ship’s mizzenmast cracking cleanly at its base.

It toppled backward, slow at first but gaining momentum as it fell. The ropes connecting it to the other masts whipped and snapped as the mizzenmast came down toward the stern, its dark sails billowing like the wings of a terrible beast. The buffeting winds only made its collapse more erratic, and the thick wooden post hit the deck with a heavy crack that Levi could hear even on the _Maria_. It had almost certainly smashed the wheel to pieces, and seemed intent on causing yet more damage. The upper length of the mast slid inexorably down into the sea, but the netting of ropes holding the enormous beam to the deck held fast.

The mizzenmast’s topgallant sail now dragged along behind the phantom ship, water-logged; it acted as a sea-anchor, leaving the enemy ham-stringed in the worst of ways. They had no steerage with which to turn, nothing with which to fight the disastrous effect of the felled mast letting their ship be yanked about by the churning sea.

The _Maria_ ’s gunners used that moment to fire upon the hobbled enemy, and a rapid, booming staccato of cannon punctuated the death groans of the mizzenmast and the ship it was slowly tearing apart.

Levi only had to see the first shots land to know that the battle was over. The other ship was not much larger than the _Maria_ , and it stood no chance now that it was dead in the water, rudderless, with the sea hellbent on dragging it down by the mizzen.

The gunners were preparing another volley even as Levi staggered away, the soles of his boots struggling for purchase on the soaked deck. The staircase, too, was slick with the wash of seaspray and blood, shining wet and dark in the light of the battle-lanterns. He pulled himself up the steps, half-bent, and hobbled onto the deck.

The sails above flapped weakly, pierced and shredded by both storm and cannonshot. The weather deck was littered with debris of all manner— pieces of canvas, bits of smashed wood, bodies and their parts. Levi held tight to the gunwale as he crossed the larboard gangway, skittish of every tilt of the ship. Along the way, he passed a small, violently rent hole in the floorboards that reached all the way down to the after-hold.

He limped up the steps to the quarterdeck, teetering to a stop at the sight spread before him. A miserable-looking handful of the royal sailors, and their captain, all watching the demise of the unnamed ship now sinking into the calming sea without so much as a cry for aid or mercy from its crew, or an attempt to flee in the small boats.

It was eerie. Levi watched with them for a few long moments, thin brows drawing together as the ship simply disappeared before them. He could see no colors, no crew, no sign it had been manned by anyone at all, or ever hailed from any place. His mouth went dry and puckered, like after a mouthful of seawater, and the short hairs upon the back of his neck rose like hackles.

Rain, now coming down warm and gentle, pattered down around them. It rinsed the blood and gunpowder from his skin, struck the acrid scent from the air. Some small fire on the upper deck began to smolder, little puffs of milky white smoke slowly giving out.

A pair of sailors dashed up the stairs behind Levi, jostling him as they edged past to reach the captain. One turned to eye him as she passed, the first among the crew here to acknowledge his presence at all. The captain only seemed to take notice of him then, occasionally glancing past the sailors reporting to him and fixing Levi with a curiously appraising look. A faint smile.

Levi didn’t shy away from it, however it unnerved him. He set his jaw, teeth pressed painfully together, and lifted his chin. He stared straight into the other man’s eyes, knowing that shit drove nobles up a wall— lowborn people doing anything but cowing and showing ‘proper respect’ did, really.

The captain didn’t immediately call for him to be hauled away, which was a surprise in itself. The sailors passed him on their way back below deck, and neither made a move to clap him in irons, either. Levi didn’t know what to make of that, but it was hardly the only recent happening to leave him unsettled and perplexed.

“What is _that_?” Levi asked, jutting his chin toward the receding storm and the distant silhouette of a massive ship to rival the _Sina_. The wind had so whipped up the sea that the horizon blurred into an ugly, violent-blue streak; their own skies, however, were growing lighter and clearer by the moment.

“That would be the _Titan_ ,” the captain replied, eyes squinting a hair as Levi took a weak half-step toward him. He seemed unfazed by the storm, as well as the fact that it was clearly traveling away with the _Titan_. Neither arcing lightning nor churning sea seemed to trouble the ship terribly, and its course remained true even as the squalling winds had the inky canvas sails whipping loose like pennants. “It could be called the flagship of their fleet. ‘Fleet’ being applied somewhat… loosely.”

“A ghost ship. A real one.” Levi felt something knot in his belly and he thought of Isabel, her preoccupation with tales of haunted vessels manned by the dead and damned. The downed ship had been unmanned, hadn’t it? And unmarked, unnamed, as if only conjured during the storm, some unholy and bastardly child of storm and death.

“The exact nature of the _Titan_ , and its unconventional little fleet, is currently unknown to us,” a surgeon beside the captain confirmed, “but I think ‘ghost ship’ is a sloppy and superstitious guess at best. Get me close enough next time, though, and I could probably tell you more.”

Erwin Smith lowered the telescope and handed it off to his lieutenant, who raised the piece to his eye and surveyed the murky horizon himself. “We’ll do our level best, Dr. Zoe. For now, return below to tend the wounded.” He turned toward Levi and added, “A word, if you would, Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi hesitated to follow the blond— Captain Smith, he reminded himself— down the companionway, and not only because he felt faintly distant, ungrounded from everything now unfolding. There was also an irrational, nagging concern that the captain must know about the pick, the plot, the plan to scuttle away in a longboat with Isabel and Farlan. The looks cast his way by the captain and his sailors could only mean they knew— not that they needed any extra reason to forgo a trial and hang him immediately. Hell, if the captain were to decide to push him overboard right now and claim him dead with the rest of the _Ripper_ ’s crew— with Farlan and Isabel— Levi could hardly do anything about it. Would probably make no objection, anyway.

“I prefer just Levi,” he said with a sluggish, word-weary tongue, thoughts drifting to Kenny as he reluctantly followed Captain Smith down the narrow stairway that led below deck, toward the wardroom and the captain’s cabin.

“That’s well enough, Mr. Levi. We already have one Ackerman aboard as it is.”

Levi’s surprise was readily apparent; he had never known any other Ackerman outside of blood relation, and he doubted any fruit from this family tree would wind up on the right side of the law.

The pirate felt himself being eyed every step along the way, though he trailed the captain at his own request. A handful of royal marines recuperating from the battle outside the wardroom lapsed into silence as he approached, their powder-stained hands suddenly trading mugs of ale for rifle stock.

Levi stared straight ahead and focused on the captain’s broad back, the rhythmic swish of his oiled cape over the deep forest of his gold-trimmed overcoat. His steps, so heavy and just slightly off due to the uneven distribution of weight in his upper body.

Captain Smith led him into quarters that were, in comparison to the cabin that Kenny kept, sparse and organized. At least, they probably were when not thrown into chaos by the lurch and sway of rough seas. Dust still clung to the shelves and chandelier, and the floors had weeks worth of treading left uncleaned.

“Your cabin boy should be flogged.”

That got the blond’s attention. He glanced up from the unornamented box in which he rummaged, a smile briefly ghosting over his bruised mouth. “He’s a good lad.”

Levi grumbled in response, still distracted by the caked on grime that was in danger of ruining the rather fine rug. Such a waste. Even beyond the work of simply righting all the furniture and papers that had been strewn about by the tumult, the cabin was in need of a deep and thorough cleaning from top to bottom.

“Please, sit,” Captain Smith said as he righted a chair that had been sent careening into the far wall. He dusted off the seat and made an offertory gesture, then ducked behind his desk to upright his own chair.

Levi was unable to contain a groan as he gingerly settled down on the plush upholstery across from the captain. It was the sort of little luxury he had missed terribly over the week locked in the brig. In different circumstances, he would have worried for ruining it with the state of his clothes-— the same set as when he was taken into custody, sour with a week’s worth of sweat and now soaked through with blood and seawater to boot. His brown twill vest was stained a hideous wine color, the soles of his boots dark with a slurry of blood and wet gunpowder, and he knew that the soft, comfortably loose shirt beneath his vest would never be white again.

He was mildly surprised when the captain approached him with a wad of cotton and a roll of linen bandages, rather than taking a seat behind his desk. He was closer to shock when the blond knelt beside his chair and began tending his wound. It was a makeshift treatment— the linen simply wrapped tight around his arm, the wooden splinter still lodged in his flesh but pressed to stem the bleeding— but Levi found himself grateful despite every wish to the contrary. Also, impressed at the man’s ability to properly bind his wound one-handed.

“Dr. Zoe will take care of you once they finish with the more dire cases,” the captain said as he fastened the last bit of linen with a tuck and a pin. “And that was damned good work on the cannon, Mr. Levi.”

“I didn’t think anyone was even watching me down there,” the pirate admitted. The gunners had paid more attention to him than they’d let on. “And it’s just Levi.”

“Levi,” Captain Smith said, still kneeling beside him. His blond hair was slightly mussed, the grease of his pomade clearly overwhelmed by wind and water, and flecked with dark soot. A dribble of blood from his nose had smeared into a washed crimson over his bruised lips; it cracked and flaked a little more every time he spoke. “I trust you are familiar with both the _Sina_ and the _Rose_. They’re both quite familiar with you and yours. The _Sina_ ’s captain has written me of the _Ripper_ on more than one occasion,” he added with a hint of a bleak smile.

“Saying what? That she’d been outmaneuvered by a ship less than half her size? Manned by a pirate crew? For the third time in a year?”

The blond made a low, thoughtful noise as he rose, exhaust evident in the slow bend of his knees. “Something to that effect. You’ve seen the rest of the royal fleet, and you know where the _Maria_ stands in comparison. And now you’ve seen what we do out here.”

“Chase a ghost ship and its spawn,” Levi murmured, eyes sliding back over toward the captain.

“Better than letting them encroach further and further into our waters, preying on any ship to cross their path. Royal or pirate, merchant or transport.” Captain Smith let his words hang for a moment, heavy in the close, still air of the cabin. Then, though it hardly needed to be said, “My command is far less substantial than that of my peers, and my admiralty orders far riskier.”

“Funny how that works out, isn’t it?”

“It gives me some leeway to be less orthodox in my methods,” the man continued, and Levi had to credit him for finding a silver lining in being ordered to give chase to such a dread ship with a mere eight-and-twenty-gun frigate at his disposal. “You are an excellent fighter and a capable hand. I lost twenty-eight good sailors and soldiers in the engagements with the _Ripper_ and that _Titan_ spawn. I would welcome such an addition to my crew.”

“I’m a pirate. I tried to kill you… was it a week ago? Hard to tell how many days are passing by when you’re crammed into the brig with three dozen dirty slobs.” And Isabel and Farlan. Levi chewed his lip and thought of them torn asunder by the cannon shot and shrapnel, pulled out into the roiling sea.

An aching sliver of him wanted to kill Captain Smith for it. Or Kenny, for leading them out into hellish waters in the first place. Or himself, for sending the two of them into harm’s way just at the wrong moment. But mostly, he wanted to see the ship ultimately responsible burned to the waterline and left for the sharks and their ilk. His friends deserved that much.

“It was just over a week,” the captain confirmed. “As far as I am aware, you are the only surviving member of the _Ripper_ ’s crew.”

Levi tried not to wince at hearing it out loud like that. “I’d drink to that,” he muttered, glancing around the disheveled room for any sign of a liquor cabinet.

Captain Smith seemed to understand. He undid a latch behind his desk, and then set a stout bottle and two small crystal glasses upon his desk. “My sympathies for your comrades and your friends. And your captain,” he added as he passed a glass to Levi, three-quarters full.

He stared into the amber liquor for a few seconds, then lifted the glass in the blond’s direction. “Aren’t _you_ my captain now?”

“Only if you’re willing to accept my appointment,” the blond man said, “and serve the Crown and her interests. You’ll be asked to swear an oath offering up your heart.”

Levi sneered into his cup, though much of it was hidden by his hand. “I suppose I’m a man with limited options.”

“You still have a choice.”

The pirate considered that, his forefinger tapping the rim of his now-empty glass. “I hope I don’t regret it.”

* * *

 

_845_

“Ship off port stern,” Levi called out. His words were picked up by the helmsman and another watch captain, passed along until the weather deck reverberated with the news. No doubt, word had already spread to the lower decks, if not already the captain’s cabin.

He strode toward the companionway near the center of the quarterdeck, stopping with the toes of his boots flush against the low wooden rim of the hatch. Levi peered down the darkened staircase, then cocked his head to better listen. He heard Erwin long before he saw him-- his heavy and hurried footfalls up the stairs from the gun-deck, the low murmur of an exchange with Lieutenant Zacharius.

Erwin rose from the shadowed depths of the companionway, sunlight striking his carefully combed and parted hair and setting it alight, gleaming and golden. The captain’s gaze immediately flitted to the sky, clear and blue as his eyes, and then to the blissfully unmarred horizon; there was no darkening cloud looming over them, no unearthly steam or fog bank approaching, no smoke that smelled of lightning and sulfur and death. “A pirate vessel? A privateer?” he asked, thick and angled eyebrows drawing inward by a hair.  
  
Oh, how Levi _wished_. “An old friend of yours,” he said lowly, the usual dissatisfaction of his tone deepening into something more substantial.  
  
The _Maria_ ’s captain brightened considerably, his faint expression of disappointment at the missed appearance of the _Titan_ diffusing into nothing, like a drop of ink in the ocean. There was an excitement in him as he reached toward Levi for the telescope, his single hand extended and flat, palm up. “I would never imagine him coming so far south.”  
  
Levi set the lead in his hand, careful, knowing the cost of such a device likely equaled half his wages for the year. He followed Erwin across the quarterdeck with Lieutenant Zacharius trailing directly behind him; the struggle of maintaining pace with such tall men was nothing to be scoffed at, either. As they approached the rail along the back of the ship, Levi lifted a gloved hand and directed the two of them as to where to look. “Two points off the lantern. Just there. You’ll see it with the lead.”  
  
Erwin lifted the telescope to his eye and searched for a long moment. “I’ll be damned. Well spotted, Levi.”  
  
Levi tried not to preen visibly. “Well. You didn’t name me watch captain for my sparkling service record.”  
  
Behind him, the low, breathy snort of Lieutenant Zacharius’ laugh followed. He took the lead as it was passed to him and, after seeing the far distant colors of the _Sina_ himself, added, “And here you are, disproving all of my naysaying on the matter. Again.”  
  
“Levi,” Erwin said, tone shifting back into a timbre with the authority of a captain, “an extra ration of rum is yours, if you’d like it.” He paused, and continued less in the manner of an officer, and more as a friend. “Or an extra measure of tea or soap, if you would prefer.”  
  
“More soap would be nice, until we make land again. Somewhere inhabited.”  
  
The captain nodded. “I’ll speak to the quartermaster about it. Please see to it that we are made presentable in the meantime.”  
  
Levi lifted his curled fingers to his temple, making the customary gesture of respect owed an officer. “Sir.”

* * *

  
Levi’s first order of business was to find the young midshipman Armin Arlert— a small little lord fresh from the Royal Naval Academy, all book-knowledge and soft edges, though Erwin swore a mind as sharp as razorwire was nestled beneath— to give him the remainder of the watch. _Someone_ had to keep an eye out for enemy ships while Levi set to work on readying the ship for this business with the _Sina_.  
  
He went below to the berth deck, weaving through the living quarters of the _Maria_ ’s sailors and toward the wardroom where the young gentlemen and gentlewomen resided. It was empty, except for the lingering mess from breakfast. Levi exhaled slowly, vowing to have a talk with Erwin about the habits of his young officers-in-the-making. After another ten minutes of searching high and low yielded nothing— except for one near case of mistaken identity with a young marine named Christa Lenz— the watch captain decided that a more roundabout approach might actually prove more direct.  
  
Levi began looking for Eren Jaeger. The cabin boy was markedly easier to find, thanks to his loud and rather distinct voice, as well as a penchant for argumentation. Sure enough, he followed the trail of people disturbed by Jaeger’s volume and shortly found Midshipman Arlert sitting in the hold with Jaeger and Ackerman— the _other_ Ackerman, the young girl who blessedly didn’t share much in looks with himself or Kenny. They were at work unknotting piles of thick rope and winding them back into orderly coils; good and important work, Levi thought, if staggeringly far beneath the duties of a midshipman.  
  
“Don’t stop on my account,” Levi interrupted as he approached, not particularly keen on catching any fragments of gossip from the young hands. “Mr. Arlert, you are needed on watch. The captain has ordered me to make ready the ship for a boarding party from the _Sina_.”  
  
Jaeger dropped his rope at the mention of the flagship, all of his hard work pooling on the floor in disarray. “The _Sina_?”  
  
Levi glanced around the dim, near lightless hold, with its damp, creaking walls and faint smell of tar and oakum. “Had no idea it echoed down here. Mr. Arlert, if you please,” he said brusquely, stepping aside and nodding toward the stairs. The little lord might have been his social superior— and the part of Levi that had been raised on the seas without the stifle of social expectation and the gentry breathing down his neck chafed so sorely at that notion— but Arlert was barely ten years old. There was only so much bowing and scraping Levi could stomach.  
  
And, like Erwin, Armin Arlert seemed to recognize and abide that. “Of course,” the blond replied, grabbing his hat and fitting it on. He said a goodbye to the other two, then began up the stairs with Levi in tow. “Would any brigand really be foolhardy enough to attack us with the _Sina_ so close by?”  
  
Levi made a soft sound of amusement. “Wouldn’t have stopped the _Ripper_. We raided a ship or two right under her nose before. She’s got a lot of firepower, but she can’t keep up,” he murmured, on the verge of a very inappropriate smile. “Once had the _Rose_ trailing us for the better part of two days, full sails, and we still had the time to take a whaler as we outran her.”  
  
“That’s seamanship,” the young boy said, quiet and a little bleak.  
  
The ex-pirate made a noise of affirmation. “Had it been the _Maria_ , though…” he murmured, letting the thought linger. “Kenny had seamanship to spare. Captain Smith has enough to hand out on loan.”  
  
“He’s a first-rate captain on a sixth-rate ship,” Arlert said by way of agreement. He smiled afterward, tight-lipped, and shared with Levi a certain bemused expression— troubled, as Levi was, with the incongruity in the charge and treatment of their captain by the Crown.  
  
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Levi muttered, and Arlert didn’t look the least bit affronted. “Alright. I’ll be about the deck if you need me. Don’t hesitate to call for me if you see anything of suspicion.”  
  
The midshipman nodded and lifted his hand, as if to tough his knuckles to his brow in a salute, before catching himself. The boy’s cheeks reddened and he dropped the hand back to his side before nodding and drawing his telescope from the breastpocket of his jacket. “Of course, Watch Captain,” he stammered before turning and making quick strides aft.

Levi’s next hours were spent directing the cleaning of the weather deck, ensuring that all was pristine and in good working order. The ship’s Master, Ness, made certain that the other hands on deck either assisted Levi or stayed out of his way. The ex-pirate’s reputation for cleanliness and his eye for detail had earned him a certain latitude when it came to the upkeep of the ship, even from officers and higher ranked seamen. Levi knew, thanks to Erwin, that the adoption of his standards had resulted in a number of well-appreciated changes throughout the ship: most notably a much reduced odor from the after-hold and a significant reduction in illness among the crew.

The floorboards were scrubbed anew and washed, the gunwale wiped down and touched up with maroon paint, and the washing that had been hung up in the rigging to dry was pulled down and sorted away. Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman appeared, too, their work in the hold finished; the added hands helped make the work short.

Levi huffed out a satisfied breath as they began clearing away the last of the buckets and bits of stray rope from the deck, giving the appearance of an immaculately kept ship. “Not terrible,” he said with a little shrug, giving Jaeger a brief look of approval.

The boy absorbed it like a sponge. His chest puffed out a little as he emptied one of the last buckets of soiled water overboard, clearly taking pride in his contribution to the effort. “Is there anything else I can do, Watch Captain?”

Levi lifted the rumpled fabric of the scarf tucked under his chin and used it to dab at the light sheen of sweat on his face. “I’d like to take down that fore topsail and replace it with one that isn’t so heavily patched,” Levi decided. “Ask Master Ness if it’s alright, and get a few other hands to help you change it out.”

Where another young hand might have groaned and resented the task, Jaeger took it with all the enthusiasm of a lieutenant receiving his own command. As Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman went to find Ness, Levi went to attend to one last eyesore left upon the weather deck.

“Doctor,” he greeted as he approached Hange Zoe’s preferred haunt, up on the forecastle, near the bow.

“Levi!” Hange replied jovially, eyeglasses catching the light in a blinding way. “I hear we’re due for a visit from your _favourite_ first-rate captain,” they said teasingly. Hazel eyes squinted as the doctor adjusted their glasses and turned to look toward the stern. “Doesn’t look like it should be a long wait, either.”  
  
Levi grunted as he glanced back toward the _Sina_ , now visible without a telescope, only an hour or so from rendezvousing with them. “Are you sure we can’t still shell the hell out of it?” he asked dryly. “Not too late for a beat to quarters,” he added wistfully. “Shadis has the gunners down to a minute-and-forty-five volley.”  
  
“That kind of talk will get you branded a pirate again,” Hange replied, leaning back in the canvas-backed sunchair they’d brought up on weather deck for ‘extended periods of observation’. They smiled at the mention of Shadis, though. “Also, I’m fairly certain that one broadside from the _Sina_ would literally blow us out of the water. In pieces. Hard to pursue the _Titan_ on flotsam and jetsam. Ugh, and I’d lose all of my specimens...”  
  
“You’re not doing much to dissuade me here,” Levi said flatly. “I’ve given the rest of the watch to the young gentleman Arlert. Try to keep Jaeger and Ackerman from distracting him from his duties.” He turned to leave, intending to dash down to the berth deck to wash himself up quickly and change into fresher clothes, before a thought struck him. The man turned back to Hange, still stretched out on the canvas chair as if yachting.

“On second thought,” he said, leaning over to get their attention, “why don’t you go take a bath before the _Sina_ catches us? You’re so damn oily they’re going to mistake us for a whaler.”

“Levi,” the doctor sighed, “I’m _observing_. Have you even noticed the albatross?” they asked, almost exasperated. A flailing arm directed him to look up at a massive white-feathered bird coasting along above the ship. “He’s been following us since dawn. A real beauty, Levi, and he’s like nothing else on the books. Droppings the size of apples! The wingspan alone sets this species far beyond anything previously known to science--”

“I’d rather you observe the effect of a bar of soap on your filmy skin,” Levi interrupted, his petite nose wrinkling. “And I’m sure everyone downwind feels the same. You can use one of the bars in my trunk. It’s got bits of lemon peel.”

“I do like lemons,” Hange said thoughtfully, one foot gently swaying as they thought it over. “Alright, you’ve convinced me! I’ll be sure to put it back when I’m done--”

“Just keep it, please,” the watch captain insisted. He rubbed a hand against his forehead, feeling the dampness of sweat at his brow.  
  
Levi went below deck with Hange, immediately relieved by the cool shade of the berth deck. He fished soap and a change of dress from his trunk, tucked away against the wall near his hammock. While the doctor went away to bathe, Levi went to wash up.

He shrugged off his vest and tore off the fine cotton wrapped around his throat, carefully draping both over a rail to the side. He unbuttoned his damp shirt and slid it down off of narrow but well-muscled shoulders; his skin was still a bit flushed from the heat and the high sun, dampness running down the dip in his back and up his nape.

He poured stored rainwater into a basin and scooped it up into his hands, splashing it into his face, combing wet hands across his scalp, up over the short, fine hairs along the back of his head. The ringing of a bell above deck urged him to wrap up. He wiped a clean, wet rag across his skin as best he could and used another rag to dry.

With quick, practiced movements, he slid on the new shirt and buttoned it up to the base of his throat. He took a creamy-white length of fabric-- soft, fine cotton, gently pleated— and wound it around his neck, knotting it carefully. Lastly he put on his newest vest, nicer than the few others he owned. It was finely cut, the material something like tweed, with a high collar and an attractive column of brass buttons down the front.

The watch captain slid his palms down his front, smoothing down the fabric and checking that his shirt tail was tucked in. With a last glance at the small, dingy mirror bolted to the wall beside the basin, he straightened up and went topside again.

“Levi,” Erwin called out as soon as his feathery wisps of coal-colored hair could be seen coming up the companionway. He beckoned the narrow man over at once, his one arm gesturing broadly. Lieutenant Zacharius stood at his side, of course, with hands tucked behind his back as he observed the approach of the _Sina_.

Levi clicked his tongue as he responded to the captain’s summons. The blond, too, had changed out of his undress uniform and into something better suited to company. His dress jacket was the same deep, forested shade of green, but was rich with embroidery and ivory buttons, its shoulders heavy with elaborate golden braidwork and fringe. Underneath he sported a tailored white waistcoat, buttoned taut over his wide chest and sitting snug around his thickly muscled abdomen.

Erwin’s loose sleeve was pinned up to the front of his jacket, very overt. Levi liked it. Without quite meaning to, he thought of Eren Jaeger and his wooden leg-— a carven and painted work of art, and one he displayed proudly. He wondered if the ex-cabin boy had picked up some of the captain’s attitude, his bucking of the notion that such wounds were meant to be hidden and pretended away whenever possible.

“Sir,” Levi greeted as he came to stand beside the captain. He touched his knuckles to his brow briefly before he continued. “Permission to sit in the hold and scrape barnacles until this is over?”

“Denied,” Erwin said without missing a beat. He turned his head slightly, meeting Levi’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. “I would like Captain Nile to see you again. Perhaps… with a little less sniping this time around.”

Levi made a doubtful sound, but stood fast at the captain’s side. After a few long moments filled only with the tolling bells of the two ships and the cries of the crews making ready for a boarding, he added, “See if we can trade them for some lye. We’re running damned low, and not a free port for weeks. We still have an ass-load of potatoes, too, courtesy of the new locks on the pantry. A pound of lye for every two pounds of potato would be fair.”

Erwin nodded, as if to himself.

“They’re lowering their boats,” Lieutenant Zacharius announced, looking back over his shoulder at the captain. He too wore his dress uniform, complete with a white-plumed, cocked hat, perched atop his head like a shark’s fin.

Erwin ordered the deck cleared, sending many of the sailors scuttling below deck and out of the way. Ness, Shadis, and Dr. Zoe stood up along the quarter deck, watching and waiting for the arrival of the _Sina_ ’s captain from a higher vantage point.

Lieutenant Zacharius bent over the larboard railing to help the arriving crew members of the _Sina_ on board. The first to climb up from the longboat was Captain Dawk, of course.

The visiting captain threw a long, lanky leg over the gunwale and clambered onto the larboard gangway. He paused to greet Lieutenant Zacharius properly, and to straighten his own bicorne hat. It was larger even than Erwin’s, and bore carefully selected feathers that curled and fell in a spectacular plume of gold-tipped white— one of many marks of a first-rate captain of the Royal Navy.

Nile Dawk reminded Levi of one of Hange’s avian specimens-- a gawky, noisy thing that tended to stick its beak where it should not. The way he strutted down the gangway didn’t do much to lessen the image.

Erwin started forward, arm already outreached toward his old colleague and fellow from the Academy. “Captain Dawk,” he said, and Levi could hear the affection in his tone.

“Erwin,” the other man greeted, a smile curling under his thin mustache.

They met in a quick embrace there on the gangway, patting each other on the back and shoulder.

“How are Marie and the children?” he heard Erwin ask, soft and nearly carried away in the wind. Their exchange quickly slipped from the realm of two high-ranking officers into that of old friends; it became all quiet and jovial banter, shared little laughs and nudges.

Levi shifted in place, feeling uncomfortable under the bright hot sun. He would have rolled his eyes at the entire situation if Shadis hadn’t been watching him like the lidless specter he was.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew Levi’s attention back to the pair of captains.

“—well, you know how Zackly is,” Nile was saying, practically in Erwin’s ear. The captain noticed Levi then, his thin mouth pressing shut, lips tight. He made no effort to hide his annoyance at the ex-pirate’s presence, his expression turning like curdling milk.

A year ago, Levi might have taken this opportunity to remind Dawk of his repeated failures to so much as touch the _Ripper_ , despite the bevy of great cannon at his disposal and a vessel that dwarfed nearly every ship on the seas. Two years ago, he would have tried to kill the bastard on sight.

Now, the reformed pirate raised his hand to his temple in a grudging sign of respect. “Sir,” he added dryly, the word sticking on his tongue like the thick porridge the cook cobbled together out of stale grains and shriveled fruits.

“Ackerman,” was Nile’s reply, chilly and tight-jawed. His dark eyes passed to Erwin, plainly concerned. “Still haven’t cleaned ship, I see.”

Levi stiffened in his boots, old indignation flaring in him like a spark to oil. His narrow frame quivered, strumming with a need to introduce Nile Dawk’s entire face to the freshly scrubbed floorboards.

Before the watch captain could act on the visceral desire to commit an act that would have landed him a flogging-filled journey to the gallows, Erwin spoke. “Cleaner than it’s ever been, Nile,” he said sharply, “and in large part due to Mr. Ackerman’s recruitment.”

“All I’m saying is that if you’re pressing hands into service, you’re better off looking into the merchant marine,” Nile said hotly. “Not pirates. Not one from the _Ripper_. Not Kenny Ackerman’s _flesh_ and _blood_ , Erwin.”

“I don’t press to fill out my crew, Nile. You know as much. And if I did, the very last place I would look is to the merchant civilians. Levi was a special recruitment, and he’s— ”

Nile pulled a face, an equal mix of disgust and alarm. “What inappropriate familiarity-- ”

“--more capable than many young officers passing for lieutenant.”

“This, too, is of concern,” Nile hissed. “He is no officer, yet you invite him to think himself such. ‘Able seaman’ is a generous title for what he is. ‘Watch captain’? Too much,” the man said, shaking his head and setting the crown of feathers swaying.

“Too much?” Erwin echoed, his voice dropping low. “If anything, it is _not enough_. You have read every report I have issued back to the admiralty. Levi’s skills are as substantial as they are diverse. His shot is equal to that of the marines, his seamanship equal to that of Academy-trained officers, and his sailing experience is very nearly that of a first or second lieutenant.”

“Don’t be preposterous, Erwin,” Nile said gruffly.

Erwin charged forth, heedless of Nile’s admonishment, close to speaking over the higher ranked captain. There was a heat in his eyes and a set to his jaw that touched off a spark of alarm in Levi. “There is no fitting rank for him, nothing that perfectly suits all that he does for the cause. And for you and the admiralty to dismiss his abilities and his service because of past run-ins with—”  
  
“‘Run-ins’, you call them,” the other captain snapped, wiry frame going rigid with a zealous anger. “He was not a boy causing headaches for the local constable, Erwin. He is a grown man who murdered and pillaged with the likes of Kenny Ackerman. I have seen the trail of gore left in their wake, the whitecaps turned pink where the _Ripper_ sailed.” He stepped in, close enough to Erwin that their noses could have brushed. “I worry enough for your life without you taking in murderous pirates.”

Levi watched Erwin’s expression, normally unreadable or politely placid, fall into something affection-torn and pensive. It read in the heavy droop of his eyes, the lift of his brow, the weakness of his thin smile. “Captain Dawk, if my choice of crew grieves you so, it might be best if we cut short this visit.”

Levi looked away, then, past the rigging and the gunwale, and studied the nearby _Sina_ at length. It seemed better than staring at their awkward silence, the uneasy shifting of two friends in the midst of disagreement. Captain Dawk’s ship sat heavy in the water, towering high above the _Maria_ , with a lengthy row of gunports arrayed along her hull. Levi counted more upon the _Sina_ ’s He could see the carven unicorn at its bow, forelegs curled as if leaping.

Nile raked a silk-wrapped hand through his short crop of hair, dark strands coming away on the glove. “Let’s not part like this,” he sighed. “Come to my cabin for the evening. Marie sent a dozen jars of her rhubarb jam for you and yours,” he added. “She’ll give me a tongue-lashing if I return home without giving them to you.”  
  
“Nile…” The wind tugged at Erwin’s pinned sleeve, at the tails of their dress jackets. “Of course. Of course, Captain Dawk,” he agreed, gently clasping the other man’s shoulder as he took a step back toward the gangway. “How could I refuse?”

Levi watched the two men pace together slowly, Erwin Smith guiding Dawk along and murmuring something as they went.

Lieutenant Zacharius touched his hat as the pair returned to the gunwale, and then signaled to the boat below that they were coming down.

The blond captain looked back toward Levi. “Please see that Eren has done his duties in my cabin, Levi. I fear today he was distracted.”

The watch captain didn’t doubt it. He waited a moment, watching as Nile ushered Erwin over the side of the ship, down the rope ladder and into the waiting longboat. Then he made quickly for the captain’s quarters at the stern of the ship, his narrow shoulders squared and tensed to the point that his back began to ache.

Dishes still sat upon Erwin’s table from lunch, apparently forgotten by Eren in his rush to help ready the weather deck for guests. The floor could use sweeping, and as ever, dust was an issue. In truth, it wasn’t difficult to find hours’ worth of reasons to stay occupied in Erwin’s quarters.

Jaeger made a valiant effort for a boy of only ten years, but his work left much to be desired. Levi straightened the captain’s desk, sorting letters from requisitions from reports. He remade the bed, knowing neither Erwin nor Jaeger knew how to do it properly, and _actually cleaned_ — as in, he moved things around to reach even the hardest places, where dust and grime sought sanctuary. A novel concept, apparently.

It was late by the time Erwin returned to his ship, the moon hanging low over the horizon. The cabin was spotless but for the scars of its many survived battles. No amount of scrubbing or polish could erase the deep lacerations in the wood, or the hairline cracks in some of the window panes.

Erwin greeted him with a jar of pale red-pink jam in hand. “For you,” he said, offering it to the smaller man.

“Did Captain Dawk ask you to give me this jar in particular?”

“He wouldn’t try to poison you, Levi.”

Levi considered the jar. It looked innocuous enough, but he supposed that would be the point of it. “I don’t trust him,” he said, an edge of distaste evident in his tone. “But I do trust you. I don’t know what a rhubarb is, but I’ll try it,” he said with a sour frown.

“They look a bit like celery stalks, but redder,” Erwin explained, smiling gently. “Marie’s is very good. They’ll probably serve it with pancakes tomorrow, but I thought you might prefer your own jar for personal reasons.”

“Thanks,” Levi murmured.

Erwin had not dismissed him yet, hadn’t asked him to leave. Levi should have anyway— the captain looked tired around the eyes, and was perhaps a tad drunk. Still, he sat to dutifully update the logbook before retiring for the night.

“Did you mean what you said?”

The blond glanced his way, momentary confusion marking the furrow of his forehead.

“What you said to Nile about me earlier,” the watch captain clarified.

The scratching of a pen against paper filled the silence for a few moments. It was a comforting sound, Levi thought, hearkening back to many nights that Levi had spent tending some duty in Erwin’s company while the captain worked— at first only so that Erwin might keep an eye on his newest, riskiest recruit, but later only because Levi liked combing through the man’s books and charts, and organizing them.

“Yes, I meant each word. I meant to add a few more, too, but I was able to hold my tongue,” he added, giving Levi a reason to smile. “Nile is my oldest friend. We served as midshipmen together. We joined the Academy together.”

“I know,” Levi said quietly, trailing his fingertips lightly across the row of spines filling Erwin’s bookshelf. They came away clean, spotless. “I don’t mean to drive a wedge between you.”

“You haven’t,” Erwin said with a tired little chuckle. “Nile is… not a man of great risks. They make him uneasy, regardless of the benefits reaped. I understand that,” he sighed. “He is deathly afraid of loss.”

“You consider me a risk,” Levi observed quietly.

Erwin smiled. “I did when I took you on,” he said plainly. “A worthy risk. One which I am glad to have taken, more so every passing day. And trusting me was a risk for you. It still is.”

“Not a bad one. You’re more trustworthy than any pirate I’ve ever known,” the brunet shrugged. “I mean, as far as I know, you’ve never stabbed anyone for six gold royals, and I don’t see you selling out your enitre crew for a single chest of gold bullion.”

“My crew is far more valuable than that,” the man said, struggling to fight off a yawn. “Three chests, at least. Also, he agreed to your trade.” At Levi’s quizzical look, he added, “Sixty pounds of lye, as you requested, in exchange for a hundred-and-twenty of potatoes.”

Levi grunted softly at the good news, and considered that perhaps Nile was not an ass through and through. Erwin liked him, oddly enough, and didn’t seem to hold the other captain’s unfairly superior position against him. “I guess I’ll tell Braus not to unload all the of the rotten ones on him, then.”

* * *

  
_850_

“Doctor Zoe wants to stop and study shit on the next island, Captain.”

“Literal shit, or… ?”

“Literal,” Levi affirmed, his lips thinning into a grim frown. “Among other things, I assume.”

Erwin cleared his throat as he weighed his thoughts against each other, testing their ballast. Pursuing the _Titan_ was his order, as well as a personal goal, but the needs of his crew and the good doctor vied near the top of his priorities as well. “We’ll anchor near it and send boats to source freshwater and forage. Tell Hange to abide the usual parameters. They have until sundown to explore, and no specimens larger or heavier than a cannonball, nor anything venomous or bearing spores. You may select which of the crew assist the doctor in their research.”

“Jaeger and Kirstein have been slacking off and annoying the hell out of me,” Levi said, as if that settled the matter.

“Very well,” the captain agreed. He relayed the news to Mike, pointing out the island through his lead and issuing orders to prepare small boats.

Levi followed as the blond headed down the companionway, passing through the gun-deck— longer than the _Maria_ ’s, with forty gun to her meager eight-and-twenty, still smelling of fresh tar and paint. Erwin went straight into his quarters, no doubt to leaf through his charts and update his log accordingly, but Levi took a moment to duck into his cabin.

It was situated directly beside the captain’s, though it was but a fraction of the size. Levi had a proper bunk, though he still sometimes used the hammock he was so accustomed to, and room enough for a steamer trunk to pack with his belongings. He needed it, too, for his new uniform.

He still didn’t care for the politicking over designs and standards and frilly details, but he could not deny a certain joy in having them for himself. His dress jacket was a subtler variation on what Erwin and Mike wore, similar in simplicity to the uniform that midshipmen had. Still, it had braided epaulets upon the shoulders and bone-white buttons, golden embroidery at the collar, and long tails that fell nearly to the backs of his knees. It was as fine as it was uncomfortable, and he derived a base pleasure in wearing it when they met with Nile or the admiralty.

His undress uniform was more to his liking. Elegance was tempered with practicality and comfort. The rich green fabric of his overcoat breathed and gave as necessary when he climbed the rigging or had to throw himself to the deck. Touches of gold here and there marked him as an officer— if only a warrant one, and not a gentleman either. The silken cravat he wore around his throat and the sinfully fine dress shirts that he wore underneath it all were simply personal choices.

Levi sat down heavily on the bunk and began unbuttoning his boots, still gleaming with polish and new leather. He traded them for his older pair— all scuff marks and dark, stubborn bloodstains, the toes and heels showing heavy wear. However, the soles were well lived-in and had a comfortable give to them, making them ideal for island exploration.

He slid the old boots on and fastened the buttons along the side; soft leather clung to his calves, just barely kissed his knees.

“Levi,” came a call from the captain’s cabin.

“I’m here,” he replied at once, at the doorway in the same breath.

Erwin glanced up from the spread of maps across his desk, a magnifying glass in his hand as he examined a detailing of the coast.

Before the man could speak again, Levi answered his question. “Yes, I know about the shoals.”

“Did you now?”

“I studied the maps last night while you and Mike fell for Hange’s experiment.”

“Ah,” was Erwin’s reply. He smiled to himself, entirely pleased, and then settled down into the chair behind his desk. “You make a good Master, Levi.”

Levi snorted. He did… _appreciate_ Erwin’s efforts to see him into a position that better suited his level of skill at sea. He did. But the man was pursuing an officership for a well-known pirate, and even charm and a web of gentry connections could not make that come to pass. “Not officially.”

“Not yet.” Erwin began carefully rolling nonessential charts to stow them away before they came to any inadvertent harm. It was a task better managed with two hands, and so Levi joined him wordlessly.

As he leaned close to help secure one thick parchment with a length of twine, Levi’s eye was caught by a brief glimmer of gold and the glint of light from a blue-green stone.

“I can’t believe you’re still wearing that ridiculous thing on your neck,” he said, a breathy chuckle following.

“I can’t believe you bought it for me,” Erwin retorted, a smile briefly lifting the corners of his mouth. The bolo tie sat snuggly at the base of the captain’s throat, tucked under the collar of his shirt and largely obscured by the fabric.

“Bought?” Levi repeated, faintly incredulous. “ _Bought?_ Never said that word.”

“One can only expect a pirate to go so straight and narrow, I suppose.”

“Crooked as they come.”

They finished setting the desk to order, and once the maps were returned to their rightful places for safekeeping, Levi ran his bare fingers over the lacquered wood. It was stained a deep, rich red, marbled with the dark woodgrain. Not ink-stained and chipped like Erwin’s old one. Not yet.

“We should make landfall in two hours,” Levi said. “Close to noon. With luck, we’ll find it covered in some new and delicious species of tea shrub,” he said as he made for the door. He would need to check the course with the helmsman and adjust the sails, see that all was ready for landing, check which provisions were most in need of restocking. “Be ready to walk the circumference of that island, and then some. I’ve been two weeks without tea and I’m not leaving land without some sort of root or leaf to boil.”

By noon they had already made anchor, thanks to favorable winds and an easy time of guiding the _HMS Glory_ into a safe inlet along the coast. Levi was on the first boat headed to shore with Hange, Moblit, and the two other unfortunate souls that would be tagging along on the doctor’s expedition. The rest of the space on the longboat was occupied with assorted traps and cages, stacks of journals waiting to be penciled and inked.

His boots touched land for the first time in over a month, sinking lightly into pale sand. The breeze off the water ruffled at his hair, lifted his collar and sent the looseness of his sleeves billowing.

He turned to Hange, who was already surveying the shore with some device he didn’t recognize. A modified sextant, perhaps? “Look at those big-ass trees,” he commented, hands planted squarely on his hips. “Think Erwin will want us to take one for a spare mast? When is he coming, anyway?” He turned to look back at the _Glory_ , slate grey eyes squinting in the glare of the sun.

“He told me he wasn’t coming,” Hange replied, still looking through whatever device they held.

“Wasn’t coming?” Levi repeated, his thin brows furrowing. “What does he mean, ‘not coming’? Did he say why?”

“Nope,” the doctor said, already on hands and knees to examine a curious looking hermit crab. “Eren, give me the thing. The thing! Levi, all he said was that he wasn’t coming ashore.”

Levi pursed his lips. “Whatever. I’ll see to that once I get back on board.”

Hange’s party set off in the direction that the amateur naturalist deemed most likely to have interesting new flora and fauna. Levi set off in a different direction, alone, but with a pistol in his belt and his hand on the hilt of his cutlass.

He didn’t fancy specimen collecting like Hange did, but he did pause to select a handful of interesting souvenirs that weren’t likely to amble off and run amok aboard ship-— stones, mostly, and the occasional snipping of a plant here and there. This part of the island’s shore was rocky, flecked with bits of dark stone. Some were porous, bubbled, almost unbelievably light in Levi’s thin-palmed hand; others were smooth and glassy, and after a moment’s study he recognized it as obsidian, like the daggers he and Isabel and Farlan had occasionally found aboard merchant ships packed with strange fruits and spices, gems he didn’t even recognize.  
  
Levi had never considered that the very same obsidian that was so coveted and so costly might also be found scattered across the shore like common seashells. He pocketed choice pieces that were larger, sharper, glinting fiercely in the heavy sunlight, and thought it felt a little like looting. He would show Erwin, and maybe send one of the brats down with a woven basket to collect enough to sell at port. If Hange was allowed to bring serpents and disgusting new breeds of insect aboard, he could at least bring something of actual value.

With his pockets full and gently clinking upon each step, he returned to the beached longboats and rode back to the ship.

Once aboard he headed directly for the captain’s cabin, ignoring calls from the rest of the crew, waving off the caterwauling of Auro and the other marines as they sought him to settle some dispute. Sure enough, he found Erwin seated at his desk, dutifully inking logs and requisition orders.

“Does it give you joy to punish yourself like this?” he asked, well beyond patience for the man.

The blond paused with his pen in the inkwell. He didn’t look up. “What makes you think I’m punishing myself?”

Levi rolled his eyes as he stomped into the cabin room, mindful that he was likely tracking sand in over the nice new floors. “I’m grateful every day that you’re not a man of the cloth, else you’d be self-flagellating incessantly. Such guilt.”

“I’m attending to necessities--”

“You’re a smart man, Erwin. You know loss is inevitable in this, if we’re to accomplish anything. You must know, rationally, that you aren’t to blame for what the enemy does, yet you deny yourself little pleasures as some unwarranted penance,” he ranted, his voice low and steeped in anger. “This isn’t the first time, but I’m making sure it’s the last. No more of this low-key martyrdom, Erwin. No one blames you for the loss of the _Maria_ \--”

“Untrue,” Erwin interjected. “I am the captain-”

Levi held up a hand to stop him, white calfskin gloved fingers pointed sharpy at the other man. “No one with any fucking sense— excepting _you_ , of course, though at this moment I have doubts— bears you responsible for the _Maria_ being rammed in two. The admiralty wouldn’t have commissioned you the _Glory_ if they thought you incapable, Erwin,” he added, pacing round the captain’s desk to perch himself on the corner, close to Erwin’s chair.

The man sat slumped in his plush-backed chair, face drawn and chin resting on his curled fist. He still didn’t look at Levi, but remained fixed upon a point a thousand miles distant.

“They don’t like you, but that’s nothing to lose sleep over,” Levi continued, shrugging. He curled his hands around the edge of the desk, holding tight as he leaned over to obstruct the captain’s view. “They gave you an aging sixth-rate frigate and you held the _Titan_ at bay with it for over half a decade. Not to mention all the pirate vessels and stolen goods recovered along the way. We’re only human, Erwin. _You’re_ only human. And we’re fighting something that is decidedly not. Don’t let defeat weigh too heavily on you.”

“I can tolerate expected losses, Levi. Acceptable ones,” Erwin replied, his thoughts clearly drifting back to the assault that had lethally crippled the _Maria_ and slain a third of the crew. “Being caught off guard is…”

“Something to be expected from time to time, when our orders are to hunt a phantom ship,” Levi said with grim seriousness. “You’re clever, Erwin, but predicting the new, abnormal ships in its fleet would have been something more akin to prophecy. If there’s any upside to losing the _Maria_ , it’s getting this. A proper sixth-rate, modern make. I can’t wait to introduce her to the _Titan_ , personally.”

“It came with strings,” the man murmured, moroseness leeching back into his voice. New quotas for the capture of pirate vessels and privateers, more demands for at-sea inspections of foreign vessels in their waters and the arrests of smugglers.

“Of course it did,” Levi scoffed, sitting back up now that he had Erwin’s eyes back on him. “It is nice, though. You have to admit.” He glanced around the cabin for emphasis, the freshly painted crown molding and the stately furniture. “Reinforced hull. Forty cannon. A bigger berth deck and bilge pumps that _actually_ work. Not to mention it still has that fresh, clean, new ship smell. Like cedar. Did you see the diagrams of her hull? That ugly armored brig is going to be in for a hell of a surprise if it tries that move on us again.”

“I’d sooner not test the hull,” Erwin replied. “She is faster, though. Hopefully that will make a difference for us.”

Levi nodded as he slid from the edge of the desk, feet hitting the floor with only a small thump. “Now, let’s get going before daylight is all burned up. The only excuse I’m accepting for you not coming ashore is two broken legs.” He glanced down pointedly to Erwin’s knee-high cotton stockings and the leather boots fitted snugly over them. “Is that something you want me to make good on?”

“I’ll come,” Erwin said, relenting at last.

He left Mike and Nanaba in command while he climbed down into a boat with Levi, Armin, Mikasa, and a handful of the marines. Auro boasted loudly of how many fowl he was going to bag— a number that seemed to increase in direct relation to how disinterested Petra Ral appeared. By the time they reached shore, it had turned into a wager and a competition. Levi had his money on Petra; her work in the rigging during engagements was something awe-inspiring, raining perfect shots down upon enemy ships without ever giving away her position.

He had convinced Erwin to throw in, too, despite the captain’s initial protests. He’d added a token coin to the pot, picking Gunther Schultz. He liked his efficiency, his consistency, and the detailed paperwork the chief marine always provided in a timely manner. Gunther had glowed a beet red at the captain’s praise, suddenly a willing and enthusiastic participant in the very contest he had been protesting as ‘irresponsible’ and ‘grossly immature’ minutes before.

The marines ran screaming into the forest immediately, and for a moment Levi considered that Gunther may have been right after all. Armin and Mikasa set off in the direction of Hange’s expedition, following the little flag markers that Levi had insisted the doctor begin using after the debacle on an island with natural basalt formations that created something of a maze.

“I’ve already scouted us a path,” Levi said, leading Erwin up a low-sloping sand dune. From there, sand gave way to a dark, loamy soil and a tall-treed forest sheltered by shady boughs.

“Did you find your tea plants?”

“No,” Levi sighed, a little saddened to be reminded of that fact. “I did find a tempting shrubbery of some sort, but Shadis said it’d probably just make me shit a lot.”

“I was thinking of staying here for a week or so,” Erwin said. “You may yet come across something.”

Levi doubted it, but the opportunity to explore and rest for a week sounded pleasing anyway. “I did find something interesting today already.”

He drew a shard of obsidian from his pocket and passed it to Erwin, who examined the black stone with a look of wonder.

“Was there more?” the taller man asked as he tested the sharp edge against the pad of his thumb. A thin trail of blood welled up along the stone.

“A beach’s worth,” Levi said, half grinning at the surprise on the blond’s face. “Imagine using the little pieces as grapeshot,” he continued, taking Erwin up a path through the curiously tall trees and jagged, primordial rock formations.

“Potentially devastating for sails,” Erwin said thoughtfully. “Remind me to send some of the hands to collect it tomorrow. We should also see about felling one of these trees for a spare mast. It should be feasible to get it down into the after-hold, I think.”

“I figured you’d want one of those.”

“Not every day you find ones so big,” Erwin said plainly. He leaned back, judging the crowning heights of the trees. “Dense wood, strait trunked, no plague of knots or gnarls. It would work beautifully.”

“That’s the fun of strange, unspoiled islands, I suppose,” Levi said. “Giant trees, weird rocks, hidden waterfalls.”

“Hidden waterfalls?” Erwin asked, immediately cocking his head as he listened for a rush of water.

“Technically, yes,” Levi said, ducking away from the blond’s inquisitive look. “Not much further.”

Around another bend Levi found the same little creek he had stumbled upon earlier in the day. He brushed aside a few low hanging branches, and beyond them was a small, mossy pool of beautifully clear water.

Erwin came to a standstill behind him, looking over him to see the babbling trickle of water that fed the pool. It ran down a dark and uneven stoneface; the little pond was lined with worn smooth rocks, blanketed with a soft carpet of pale green moss, and ringed by the broad, flat leaves of water lilies.

“It seemed like a good place to unwind.”

Levi walked to the edge and opened the leather satchel he’d brought. He pulled out an old sheet, riddled with frays and the makings of holes, and laid it flat along the water. He heard Erwin’s heavy steps over the mulchy earth behind him as he knelt down on the covering and begin undoing his boots.

Erwin settled down beside him with a groan, his bulk a little more difficult to ease down upon the ground. He watched Levi peel off his stockings and lay them out on the sheet beside them, his narrow-soled boots sitting neatly nearby. After a moment, Erwin began working off his own shoes and stockings, removing them with a little less care than Levi had shown.

He slipped his feet into the water, letting them rest beside Levi’s much smaller ones. They bore similar marks upon their skin-— faint lines from the seams of their stockings and the places where the leather uppers of their boots pressed into their ankles. The water was cool and soothing over feet sore from traversing uneven terrain, worn from weeks of hard use aboard a sailing vessel.

Levi curled his feet in the water, the soft mosses tickling at his toes. “Not as slimy as I expected it to be.”

Erwin sighed and reclined backward, slowly, his arm bent to help ease him down. When he lay flat on his back, golden hair brushing the leaves at the edge of the sheet and feet still swimming, he turned to Levi.

”I have something for you,” he said, hand disappearing into his jacket to fish something from the breastpocket.

“I hope it’s a hidden stash of tea,” the man mumbled as he stretched out beside the captain. His feet knocked into Erwin’s as he got comfortable. “If I ever find out which moron decided to store jars of olives atop the crate with all the tea leaves--”

“It’s your warrant from the Navy Board,” Erwin interrupted quietly, the ragged parchment envelope now in hand. It was lettered in faded ink, but the script was ostentatious and official.

“Whose firstborn did you sell to get me this?” Levi asked in low tones. He took the envelope with care, examining the lapis blue of the wax seal before he broke it with a finely trimmed nail.

“This time?” he quipped. Then he laughed, soft and snuffling. “No one’s, actually. Nile weighed in upon my request, though.”

Levi’s head lolled to the side to stare at Erwin. The man still wore a faint smile, but he seemed serious about what he’d said. “Nile? Nile Dawk stuck his beak in on my behalf?”

“He did. So try not to glare at him all through dinner the next time we meet.”

Levi mulled that over. Being civil to Nile would take a lot of the fun out of dinner parties and the occasional formal event Erwin dragged him to, but the man really had earned it. Levi read the letter again, marveling at what had seemed such an impossibility coming to pass.

“Not much will actually change, of course,” Erwin said after minutes had elapsed in still silence. “You’ve already been actively carrying on as Master since Ness… and you already sleep in the Master’s cabin, share mess with the officers, and possess the appropriate uniform. But your wages will increase, and you are now entitled to all the benefits owed officers, even ashore.”

Levi had a hard time tearing his eyes from the official warrant for his promotion to Master of the _HMS Glory_ , under the command of Captain Erwin Smith, fifth-rate. It sealed his acquisition of one of the highest ranks attainable by a common-blooded individual; it solidified his place at Erwin’s side. “How much of an increase?”

“You’ll have to speak to the purser for specifics,” Erwin said, earning him a groan from Levi, “but it’s at least enough for you to afford that soap you like so much. The kind that smells of oranges.”

Levi snorted, softened by amusement. “It’s lemon, but close. You really shouldn’t confuse the two, though,” he teased, rolling onto his side to face the other man. He couldn’t help but smile as Erwin craned his neck and laid his head close, breathing deeply of his skin and hair.

“My mistake, Master Levi,” his captain admitted.

A shudder ran down Levi’s spine like a droplet of cold rain, a thrilling chill that made his full-body flush more noticeable by comparison. He liked this promotion. “I like that much better than ‘watch captain’. Better than ‘master’s mate’.”

“I do, too,” the other man muttered, brilliantly blue eyes fluttering shut as Levi’s breath ghosted over his face.

He kept them shut as Levi edged closer, his nose brushing against the tip of Erwin’s. “Permission to kiss you, Captain,” the brunet whispered thinly, lips already brushing Erwin’s.

“Granted. Standing permission, no need to ask,” was the reply that came coupled with the press of Erwin’s lips against his own, dry and sea-chapped, rough from wind and salt-air.

Levi felt Erwin’s fingers trail uncertainly against his side, finding surety as they slipped higher, sliding up his back and raking up his nape. The pads of his fingers smoothed over skin and close-cropped hair, making Levi’s scalp tingle. He leaned into the kiss, wrapped entirely in the sensation of Erwin’s touch, and found he fit quite well against the larger man.

Eventually the kiss ended, but Levi remained tucked against Erwin. Comfortable, despite the pruning of his toes in the water. “Master’s cabin is always next to the captain’s,” he muttered, drowsiness catching him and holding on tightly. Erwin smelled of the sea and a touch of pomade, familiar and as strangely comforting as the constant sway of a ship. “Convenient.”

 


End file.
